Rock Bottom
The hits just keep on coming, don’t they, and not the hits that are going to win us baseball games. The Red Sox have had a rough few weeks and that’s putting it mildly. The fans are mad. Tensions are boiling. Questions need to be answered. Like this one…
Spilled Milk
Last night, the Red Sox took the first step to righting the ship. They eeked out a win against the Twins, thanks mostly to Cody Ross, and they ended their 5 game losing streak.
Now, it’s time to take the next step. It will be difficult. More difficult than winning a game? Yes. As hard as it is to believe right now, I assure you it will be more difficult, but it is necessary.
We all know the saying, “There’s no use crying over spilled milk.” Well, it’s time for the team and its fans to adopt this philosophy.
Top Five Fenway Memories
How jealous was I of everyone who was lucky enough to be at Fenway Park today? It was awesome watching it on TV—the ceremony not so much the game—so I can only imagine what it would have been like to be there in person. To be able to say afterwards, “I was there.”
It got me thinking of all the moments, all the memories that this park holds, and those fans who were lucky enough to experience them. I have been very lucky to see several Red Sox games at Fenway, and it doesn’t take much to make the experience special. Sitting in the park, surrounded by your friends and family, watching your Sox, with a sausage sandwich in one hand and a frosty beverage in the other. That is a pretty perfect day.
I have so many fond memories of watching our Red Sox at Fenway Park it would be impossible to count them all, but here are my top five, in no particular order:
1. Getting Tony Pena’s autograph. It was one of my first games. My dad took my brother and me. We arrived early to watch batting practice. It was the first, and it remains one of the few times I have ever been in the box seats. I’m not sure if you’re still allowed to get that close during BP without holding tickets for that section, it’s a shame, but we were right between home plate and the dugout. I remember watching Tony sign my slip of paper—it wasn’t a ball or the program—and him handing it back to me. It’s too bad he couldn’t participate today with the rest of the Red Sox. It’s too bad he works for the Yankees. Still, no matter what team he is with now or in the future, nothing will tarnish the memory of that day.
2. Schilling’s return post bloody sock. He got shelled by the Yankees in a relief appearance, but I think it’s safe to say that no one has ever received such applause for simply walking from the dugout to the bullpen. Fenway was buzzing with anticipation and it erupted again when he came into the game. Incidentally, this is also the game where my brother-in-law screamed some not-so-nice words at Gary Sheffield, and, my hand to God, Gary turned and looked right at us. We were sitting far back in the right field grandstand, but he found us. I will never forget that look.
3. My first Fenway Park souvenir. It was Patriots’ Day in the late 80s or early 90s. I guess it was supposed to be cold. Bitter cold days are not unheard of in April, in New England, so my dad made my brother and I wear long underwear and several additional layers. The day may have begun cold, but, by game time, it was 80 degrees. My brother and I were melting. We didn’t have a lot of money in those days. We brought our own sandwiches and sodas to the game to save on concessions, but my dad couldn’t let his kids die of heat stroke, so he had no choice but to buy us both t-shirts. I picked out one with a picture of Fenway Park on it. It came in two colors—white or black. I begged to get the black one, but my dad argued that the white one would be cooler, temperature wise. I argued that the black one was cooler, style wise. I’m pretty sure my dad, the one with the money, won the argument. Regardless, the new t-shirts saved the day and I cherished mine.
4. Roger Clemens’ return to Fenway as a Blue Jay. I’m not sure what good fortune led me to seeing this game, but I was there. I can’t remember if I ever saw Clemens pitch at Fenway, in a Red Sox uniform. I did have the opportunity to meet him at the RI premiere of Dumb and Dumber, in 1994. I was a huge Jim Carrey fan, but that’s another story for another day. I remember shaking “The Rocket’s” hand that evening at the Showcase Cinemas, in Warwick, RI, and I remember sitting in Fenway Park chanting, “Roger, Roger, Roger,” along with the rest of the “Faithful” until Roger Clemens came out of the visitors’ dugout and tipped his cap to the crowd. I knew, on that day, that I was a part of history, and that is a feeling that never goes away. It is a memory that will never fade.
5. Manny Ramirez’s return to Fenway as a Dodger. From the moment that the 2009 schedule was announced, I knew I had to be there. I was at the Roger Clemens’ game by chance, but I was going to do everything in my power to be there when Manny Ramirez was announced as a member of another team for the first time, since he helped us win two world championships. I wanted to witness the reaction. I wanted to experience the roar of the crowd and the sensation that the vibrations could very well cause Fenway Park to crumble to the ground. Tickets to the game and plane tickets home were the easy part, relatively; so many other factors were out of our control. The weather. Manny’s health. Would he suddenly have a quad injury and not be able to play? Not to mention, there was the anticipation factor. Could the experience possibly live up to the expectations I had set? The day finally arrived, and I wasn’t sure if I would cheer or boo. Regardless of one’s opinion of Manny, we would not have won it all in ’04 without him, and, for that reason alone, I found myself cheering more than booing. The experience lived up to every expectation. I was lucky, I was proud, I was grateful to have been there.
I grew up in an era when Fenway Park’s fate was always in question. The team was cursed, but that wasn’t going to stop the powers-at-be from trying to make more money. It’s destruction, to make way for a new, bigger and better stadium, seemed, at times, inevitable. Just think, today, it could be a parking lot or condos. Instead, it remains the league’s oldest and greatest ballpark.
What’s your most memorable experience at Fenway Park? In an effort to compile 100 or more fan memories of Fenway, by the end of the season, please submit your personal favorites either in the comment section below or by email to afandivided@gmail.com. If selected, your favorite memory could be included in a special post at the end of the season.
A Postcard from Optimism
Remember how I mentioned, last time, that Optimism is on vacation? Well, today, I received a postcard from him and thought I’d share it with you. He makes some good points.
Dear A Fan Divided,
I’m having a great time on vacation but I heard that you’ve been down about the Red Sox. Here are a few reasons to stay positive:
- David Ortiz is off to a good start. He’s batting .304, he’s slimmed down (he looks good) and he’s almost fast. That steal attempt the other day almost worked!
- Dustin Pedroia
- We haven’t played a game at Fenway yet.
- All the starting pitchers have been sitting on the bench, or even the steps, intently watching the game on their days off. Have you noticed all the not so subtle shots of them?
- Last year, the Sox started off the season 0 and 6 and missed the playoffs by one game. This year, they’re 1 and 5. There’s your one game.
Wish you were here!
Your friend,
Optimism
P.S. Go Bruins!
Why Not Us Revisited
I would like to start by doing something I rarely do. I would like to thank Fox. Thank you for not airing Saturday’s game on the West Coast. Thank you for sparing us. For sparing me.
For the second season in a row, we find ourselves at 0 and 3. We could have survived the first loss. At least we fought back. The second one, I, thankfully, did not see, but blowouts happen. It could have been chalked up to a bad day. Loss number three hurt.
Let’s face it, the chances of this team bouncing back, after last year, were a long shot, and, after another disappointing start, the odds have only gotten worse.
Last time, we found a way to be optimistic. After yesterday and regardless of what happens tonight, optimism is on vacation. Hello pessimism.
Why Not Us?
Last year at this time, I was starting this blog and the Boston Red Sox were predicted to win 100 games. If I had to bet, at that time, which of my teams, the Red Sox or the Giants, would win a world championship, the safe money would have been on the Sox. Isn’t it funny and great how things turn out?
No one expected anything from the Giants and they won the Super Bowl. The Red Sox, on the other hand, were heralded as the greatest team ever fielded and they didn’t even make the playoffs. They had a nine game lead and they let it all slip away. It was a historic collapse, and I don’t know what the odds are of bouncing back after a season like that, they can’t be good.
The safe money may not be on the Red Sox, but every game still has to be played. It’s a new season, an opportunity to wipe the slate clean. Today, the 2012 Boston Red Sox will take the field and try to put the 2011 season behind them. How will they do? That’s a very good question. Can I get back to you in October?
The End of an Era
We are officially one week away from the start of the 2012 Boston Red Sox season. It’s exciting but it is also a tad bittersweet, as our team will be minus several familiar faces.
Root for the Home Team
There is nothing quite like singing “Root, root, root for the RED SOX” during the seventh inning stretch at Fenway Park. I wonder about the visiting fans, not of the team we’re playing but those fans who are there just to experience Fenway, perhaps for the first time, I wonder if they join in. I’d like to think that they do, because, why not, it’s fun rooting for the home team.
Before the NFC Championship game, I had an interesting chat on this subject with my cousin, Kate, who lives in San Francisco. Kate is a Patriots fan, but her husband, Peter, has taken to rooting for the 49ers and did so against the Giants that Sunday—sorry Peter. I told Kate that while they probably shouldn’t tell the Uncles that Peter has become a Niners fan, in reality it’s fine because you should always root for the home team when you can. Kate liked how I qualified that statement, “when you can”, and she offered this example: if she and Peter were to move to Brooklyn, it would not be acceptable for them to root for the Yankees. Exactly, I replied, because as Red Sox fans that would be prohibited.
However, take Joe and me. We live in Los Angeles, so as Red Sox fans we’re not going to root for the Angels, but we see no problem with rooting for the Dodgers. It would be totally fine if we, hypothetically, went to see a game at Dodgers Stadium and bought a Manny Ramirez shirt and cried a little when he stepped up to the plate. That’s all perfectly fine. Unless of course, the Dodgers are playing the Red Sox. In those rare occasions, we’re not going to feel any remorse when the Sox pummel them or when Bard strikes Manny out to end the game—that was so great, wasn’t it!
But back to football and the Giants.
The year I lived in New York was great—during football season. I can still remember the feeling I had. The first game of the season. It was a beautiful fall day, a type of fall day that can only happen in New York City; I was wearing my favorite Giants t-shirt and I finally felt like I was home. That feeling was short lived. A month or so later, when Aaron Boone crushed my and every other Red Sox fan’s dreams with one swing of the bat, New York felt a little less like home.
When the ball hit the ground in the end zone and the ref signaled incomplete, a few Sundays ago, it was a strangely similar feeling to me standing on the streets of New York that October night trying to hail a cab. That night everyone around me was joyous and I just wanted to go home, get into my lofted bed, cover my head with a blanket and imagine a world where Grady took Pedro out. A few weeks ago, we were the joyous ones, but we were distinctly aware that right across the street our neighbors were the ones wishing they were in bed dreaming of a world were Wes Welker caught the ball.
A brief aside. I feel bad writing that about Wes Welker, because I strongly believe that if you blame Wes Welker after everything he has done for the Patriots then you’re crazy. Okay, aside over.
We knew our cheers wouldn’t drown out all the groans. Even though we were at home, rooting for our team—that had just won the Super Bowl—we paused for a moment to acknowledge that almost everyone else we knew was miserable. Then, of course, we went right back to celebrating; but still it was hard to shake the feeling that we were out of place, like when I was standing out on 22nd trying to get a cab before those New Yorkers realized who and what I was. As New Englanders who are Giants fans, we know, no matter how much we wish things were different, that we are guests in another team’s territory.
Though that wasn’t always the case. Before 1960, the Giants were the closest thing to a home team that someone living in Providence, Rhode Island, had. When the Patriots came along many people became fans and that’s fine. They chose to root for the home team and there’s nothing wrong with that. But we couldn’t do it. Too much blood, sweat and tears had been shed for the Giants and there was no turning back. As my father once wrote, “We were Giants fans then and Giants fans we’ve remained.”
We never blamed anyone for becoming a Patriots fan, but, for whatever reason, Giants fans were blamed for not becoming Patriots fans. Fairness aside, this is the reason why, prior to 2007, most people didn’t understand why we couldn’t root for the Patriots. They weren’t archrivals. They didn’t play in the same conference. So the aforementioned examples would seem to suggest that one could be a Giants fan and still be able to occasionally root for the Patriots.
I would love to find out if, prior to ’07, any Patriots fans felt about the Giants the way I feel about the Dodgers or Peter feels about the 49ers—a harmless team that you don’t mind rooting for if you happen to find yourself in their home, because, why not—it is, after all, fun rooting for the home team.
If any such Patriots fan existed, I think it’s pretty safe to say they don’t any longer. The Giants-Patriots rivalry has always existed for me, but now it’s not just in my head, it’s real. Perhaps now people will get it—Patriots fans will get it—finally my existence will be justified. Yeah, I’m not holding my breath.
Plus, things happen the way they are supposed to happen. If Grady Little had taken Pedro Martinez out and the Red Sox went to the World Series, maybe even won the World Series, then we would have never had the joy of watching the greatest comeback of all time.
For Giants fans who didn’t grow up in New England or who don’t live there now, 42 and 46 are simply great Super Bowl wins, but for me and my family there is an added layer of accomplishment, of redemption, that wouldn’t exist without all the pain and suffering.
Every time the Giants beat the Patriots in the Super Bowl, it becomes easier for me to root for the Patriots. Well, I don’t know if I would go that far; it becomes easier for me not to cringe every time they win. You certainly won’t find me innocently humming along to “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” while in Gillette Stadium, not that they would be playing “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” at Gillette or during a football game, but you get what I mean. I’m all for rooting for the home team. When you can. To the Giants fans living in New England and to the Patriots fans living in New York: we’re off the hook. Plus, at the end of the day, we will always have the Red Sox.
If you would like to read more about the plight of the “divided fan,” check out Jim Donaldson’s article, “Once in a blue moon, a Giant divide for fans,” from the Providence Journal, on our new Press page.
Roller Coaster Ride
I think it just hit me. The Giants won the Super Bowl. How in the world did that happen?!
This season was nothing sort of a roller coaster ride, filled with ups and downs, twists and turns, but somehow our Giants came out on top. They conquered. They prevailed. They finished.
Here’s a look back at the 2011 Championship Season of our New York Football Giants.
Tom Martinez dies at 66
Divided Fans, I have some unfortunate news. This past Tuesday, on his 66th birthday, Tom Martinez died from an apparent heart attack while undergoing dialysis.
I had the honor of interviewing Tom and it was an experience I will never forget, but if I had to pick one bit, one piece of knowledge or wisdom to hold on to, one thing to remember from Tom, it would be to always keep fighting, to never give up. This has been the lesson of the year, from Tom Martinez, to Tim Tebow, to Jeremy Lin, to both the Giants and the Patriots in Super Bowl XLVI, each one has taught us the importance of never giving up. You may not always win but comfort can be found in knowing that you gave it your best and fought til the end.
Tom Martinez was a fighter and he will be missed. My thoughts and deepest sympathies go out to his family and friends.
If you would like to read my post on Tom, Legacy, click here.
A FAN DIVIDED 